Sometimes
if I reminisce about living in Paris too much, I actually cry. Like a big old
wimpy baby I well up; my bottom lip starts quivering and I full on ball my eyes
out. I miss our apartment with its hideous green bathroom/orange kitchen combo, I miss how we had
to cook nachos in a slow cooker because we had no oven (takes 1 hour 15 minute for cheese to melt sufficiently if you're wondering), I miss the freezing/scalding kitchen tap that offered no washing up level appropriate heat compromise, I miss losing my shit on Disneyland's Tower of Terror every other weekend, I miss pain aux raisins being my only source
of fruit and that being totally
okay... Kim K
cryface in full flow over here so let's look at some pictures instead, eh?

As well as the doctor's dream team of antibiotics, painkillers and flu tablets; I think that every good medicinal handbook should suggest prescribing that fab little herbal drug: a change of scenery every once in a while. Preferably at a dosage of 3 to 4 times per year or, you know, whenever you damn well feel like it (because we all diagnose ourselves via Google anyway).

I always feel like bluebells don't hang around long enough, you know? In the same way that a large glass of wine seems to disappear before you've even drunk it, bluebells seem to burst forth in all this glorious great blue glory and just as you get used to frolicking in fields of blue and wondering why you ever have a reason to be sad again; they bugger off.

Let me tell you one thing that really appeals to my Internal Happiness Coordination System (IHCS for short): ROOF TOPS. Rooftop pool, rooftop yoga, rooftop barbecue, even rooftop nudist beach - stick 'rooftop' in front of practically any noun (bar maybe 'murder') and I'm there, I'm interested, I've got my "I ❤ roof tops" t-shirt on (no, really) and I'm ready to roof top the shit out of my day. Roof top roof top roof top. So when I saw the advert for an open air rooftop cinema in Croydon I booked tickets there and then. What my excited little brain forgot to comprehend was quite how nippy it is in April.

There are a number of reasons why I really love my job sometimes; the fact that it's so close to a park in the summer; the coffee machine that breaks and sporadically dishes out free coffee; the abundance of cake mornings for charity; the way I can roll out of bed in the morning and be sitting at my desk within 20 minutes...the list goes on. But one of the best my-job-is-ace-realisation-athons (...) is the fact that I occasionally get to travel into London. I like this for two reasons;

What in the world could be better than a vanilla or a chocolate loaf cake? Answer: a vanilla loaf cake AND a chocolate loaf cake fused together in a magical, death-defyingly sumptuous duo. Can I get a hallelujah!!?